Blue Blood
by RobinRocks
Summary: I'm so glad you came, Suzaku, to keep your promise. SuzakuxLelouch. Their final night together, overshadowed by the Zero Requiem. Spoilers for the Final Turn of R2.


…Okay, so, as I said in the summary, if you have NOT seen the final episode of _Code Geass: R2_ and DON'T want it spoiled, then you should go away. No offence. :)

But, I mean, it got spoiled for me (by a reviewer on one of my own _Code Geass_ fics, no less!), and I wasn't happy, so… it's for your own good.

BUT… let's assume that in clicking on this story and wanting to read it that you HAVE seen the final episode of _R2_, in which case… Thankyou! I hope you enjoy it!

Because… I'm sorry, but that final episode was really asking for this.

Kindly beta-ed by my _Code Geass_ buddy, **AutumnDynasty**!

Blue Blood

It went into him far easier than he had expected.

Maybe because he'd come to acknowledge the Lancelot as merely an extension of his body, and not a completely separate, massive, inhuman piece of machinery, and thus found fighting in it easy and natural, he'd thought that bearing a weapon, using it to kill, whilst not shielded within that metal shell would be difficult.

Or maybe he'd just forgotten his own strength.

But it wasn't difficult. It was easy. Calm. Silent. Lelouch had smiled at him in the moments before he drew the sword back to build the momentum he would need – it had been a welcoming. It had been encouragement and comfort—

_I'm so glad you came, Suzaku, to keep your promise._

* * *

"It's such a melodramatic name," Suzaku said across the chess board.

"What is?" Lelouch replied lazily, not looking at him.

"Zero Requiem."

"I suppose so. But…" Lelouch paused, glancing up, resting his cheek on his folded knuckles. "…It's descriptive, because it's the truth."

"But then, _I_…"

"No." Lelouch lifted the black king delicately between his fingers to examine it. "I know what you're going to say. Incidentally, you'd be wrong to say it. Because… you aren't Zero." His eyes, tinted violet now only by the contacts that hid the Geass afflicting them, flickered up towards Suzaku once more. "…Not yet."

"No…" Suzaku said faintly, dropping his own gaze back to the board as he heard the _tap_ of Lelouch replacing the king. "_You_ are. You're still Zero."

"Yes. So it's _my_ requiem." There was no emotion in his voice, and Suzaku couldn't bring himself to look at him, and not just because of the white he wore.

Silence again. Calm, but taut and heavy. Broken only by the next word that Lelouch spoke:

"Checkmate."

Of course. Suzaku wasn't surprised. Lelouch was a mastermind at chess while he was utterly hopeless. He didn't know why he'd played him, really, except for perhaps a desperation to restore some form of normalcy to the situation they found themselves in:

That, this time tomorrow, Lelouch would be dead, and he, Suzaku, would be his murderer.

Checkmate indeed.

He swallowed even though his mouth was dry. Dared to glance upwards at Lelouch again, very carefully, so as not to attract his attention or catch his eye. The other boy sat with his slender fingers loosely interlinked, looking down at the chessboard with a faint, wistful smile on his face. That smile was really all Suzaku could see of his expression, since the downward angle of his face allowed his hair to fall forward; through the fine dark strands of it he could see the gentle flicker of his eyelashes as he blinked. He observed also the slight but noticeable slope downwards of Lelouch's shoulders as he gave a small, silent sigh.

Suzaku got up.

"Excuse me," he said tartly, pushing in his chair and walking away without waiting for a reply. Lelouch didn't give one anyway, looking up but saying nothing as the other boy left the room.

The truth was, it made Suzaku feel sick. Looking at him like that. Acknowledging the evidence that he was alive. Every tiny movement, every glance, every breath he took… Right now, Lelouch was alive.

And tomorrow he wouldn't be.

Suzaku had known Lelouch for years. He had been his best friend, and despite everything he had done, Suzaku found that he couldn't help but still regard him as such. His best friend, having made several mistakes, having been driven to perhaps a level of insanity by a power to potent for him to handle, despite what _he_ personally might think, but his best friend nonetheless.

And so, when he thought on his promise—

Suzaku threw up into the sink; coughing, his eyes stinging as though he might start crying, with his right forearm pressed against the mirror. He didn't know how Lelouch could be so emotionless, so calm, about this. He'd signed his own death warrant and handed it over to Suzaku with a smile on his face – and Suzaku had taken it only because…

Well. Checkmate. There was no other way out now, was there?

Was Lelouch feeling this same emptiness? This same cold, bleak dread of tomorrow's dawn? Surely he was feeling _worse_, knowing that this was his final night alive? Was he afraid of dying?

But Suzaku didn't know. His best friend, certainly, but they'd spent too much time apart, and then too much time at war with each other. Suzaku could no longer read him easily, could no longer finish his sentences for him or reel off a list of his favourite of everything. Was Lelouch afraid and simply masking it, or…?

Did he _really_ not care?

Geass had changed him – but Suzaku just didn't know how much.

"Suzaku?"

So Lelouch had followed him. Suzaku straightened, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand as he saw Lelouch appear behind him in the mirror. He looked like a wraith, sickly-pale and swathed in those white robes.

Weren't _corpses_ traditionally dressed in white for burial…?

He didn't know what he hated more about those clothes – the way they reminded him of death or the way they reminded him that Lelouch was Emperor of Britannia. Or maybe they were the same thing. After all, there would be no need for Lelouch to die, if only…

…_if only the war wasn't over._

"What?" Suzaku bit out, averting his gaze.

"You… should have said you were feeling unwell. I didn't know."

Suzaku almost laughed – but ultimately didn't make a sound. Lelouch hadn't meant it as a joke, of course, but it was ironic that he appeared so concerned for Suzaku's health when he was the one living his last hours.

Instead he only gave a quiet sigh, leaning over the sink again; the sweat still clung to his skin and he still shivered and he still didn't really want to be anywhere near Lelouch. He shouldn't have stayed here, it was making it worse, for he was feeling the unbearable guilt before he'd even done the deed, suffering the agony of loss whilst Lelouch still stood before him.

"Suzaku?" Lelouch asked again; and he heard the rustling of that thick material behind him, knowing that the other boy was coming closer.

He said nothing. Didn't move. Focused only on the porcelain of the sink.

"_Suzaku_!" Lelouch said, his tone demanding.

It was an old tone, one Suzaku recognised from years ago. Prissy little Lelouch demanding his attention, _demanding_ that he wait for him to catch up those several metres between them, with only that call of his name.

"I can't do it," Suzaku replied. He said it all in one breath, and then stopped abruptly as though he could say no more.

Lelouch, as Suzaku knew, wasn't stupid. He obviously knew what he was referring to – but he didn't know if Lelouch would _act_ as though he didn't, to get him to spell it out.

But there was only silence. Unbearable, crushing silence.

"Do you understand, Lelouch?" Suzaku asked finally, still breathless. "Did you hear me? I can't do it. I can't kill you. I _won't_."

Lelouch gave a sigh and folded his arms.

"You already gave me your word on the matter," he replied lazily. "Zero Requiem. We agreed that this was for the best, that it's the only conclusion. This outcome is no accident. You _know_ that, Suzaku."

"Yes, I know you did this on purpose. You're _insane_."

"If _you_ don't kill me, then believe me, someone else will."

"That has nothing to do with me—"

"But _this_ does!" Lelouch unfolded his arms again, clenching his fists at his sides. "This is the final phase and I _need_ you for it. I'm not going to have this all thrown away by your… your _emotions_!"

"Oh, my _emotions_," Suzaku spat in reply, finally turning to him. "Excuse me if I'm slightly upset at the thought of killing my best friend tomorrow!"

"Oh, please," Lelouch said scathingly. "Your Saint act isn't going to get me where it hurts. It's not as though you haven't thought about it, is it?" His violet eyes gleamed maliciously. "_Killing_ me, I mean."

"How can you be so callous about this?" Suzaku blazed angrily. "Or is it simply because you've killed so many by now you're just desensitized to—?"

"I must say," Lelouch interrupted calmly, his voice icy, "I didn't expect _you_, of all people, to get cold feet at the last minute."

He turned on his heel and swept out of the bathroom into the adjacent bedroom – Suzaku's.

"Don't walk away from me, Lelouch!" Suzaku yelled after him, the hot anger he'd been holding back for days now boiling and bubbling over, welling up from the pit of his stomach and spreading though his every vein.

"I have nothing more to say to you," Lelouch replied coldly, pausing nonetheless in the middle of the room, "but that you will sorely regret not keeping your promise tomorrow. I destroy and create worlds, and the one I have created out there is one seething with anger and hatred. Zero's Requiem is the only way to save it."

"Ah, I shouldn't be surprised." Suzaku's tone was bitter as he leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom. "Twisting the words to make someone else look like the bad guy."

Lelouch smirked.

"Perhaps, but even if that's true, it's the complete opposite of what I have done out there. I have fashioned _myself_ as the bad guy – the enemy which must be vanquished. And _you_, Suzaku…" His smile softened slightly. ""You will become the hero."

"I'm no hero," Suzaku snapped, "and neither is Zero."

"That's not what the world thinks."

"_What does that matter?!_" Suzaku screeched.

Lelouch blinked at him, caught off-guard by this outburst.

"Suzaku," he said finally, his voice drained completely of any iciness or scorn, "this isn't a game. We're not playing between the trees of your father's estate anymore."

"No." Suzaku couldn't help but cough out a cold little laugh now, gesturing at Lelouch – or, more specifically, at his white clothing. "I can see that. It's like it never even existed."

"That's not _my_ fault," Lelouch insisted. "Taking over Japan and renaming it Area 11 wasn't exactly my idea, was it? And I took responsibility for it anyway—"

"You call this 'taking responsibility'?!" Suzaku interrupted incredulously. "This ridiculous plan of yours? There _has_ to be another way—"

"There isn't."

"I…" Suzaku gazed at his friend helplessly. "How can you ask me to do this? You're my friend, you—"

"That's how."

"No." Suzaku shook his head. "That's exactly why I can't do it."

"That's exactly why you can."

"You don't care at all, do you?" Suzaku whispered. "Friend, enemy, total stranger… No matter what I was to you, you'd use me like this, some little pawn to finish the game the way you want."

"That's not true." Lelouch's voice and eyes had both frosted over once more. "Besides, I see no reason why your being my friend should prevent you from killing me. You killed your own father easily enough."

Suzaku's jade eyes widened; he was struck speechless by this sudden move on Lelouch's part, and could say nothing at all, throw nothing back at him. Lelouch sensed this small victory, for he smiled loftily and twisted his grip on the weapon.

"You see, Suzaku, I can _make_ you kill me," he whispered.

"With what?" Suzaku spat. "That… _disease_ of yours that you call Geass? I hardly think that's an option, since you already—"

"Geass?" Lelouch tilted his head. "Oh, no, Suzaku. My sins against you, of course. As I said, I do not doubt for a moment that you have thought about killing me in the past, and perhaps I have _deserved_ death for the things I have done to you. Not only the Geass I cast on you, but… well, I don't think I need to _remind_ you about Euphemia—"

"Stop it!" Suzaku shouted, clenching his fists, feeling the hot sting of his nails embedding themselves into his palms. "Don't you _dare_ bring Euphy into this!"

Lelouch only smiled lazily, clearly pleased with the result of his taunting.

"You see," he murmured, "I know what sets your blood alight."

"Blood," Suzaku hissed. "That's what it all comes down to, isn't it? You think you'll solve bloodshed with yet more blood?"

"Ironic, coming from the ex-soldier." Lelouch's languid smile prevailed still. "But back to Euphemia – or the Massacre Princess, as she became known. You wanted to kill me then, didn't you? _Didn't you, Suzaku_?"

"_Stop_ it, Lelouch!" Suzaku flexed his fingers, clenching and unclenching them, making it something of a distraction to himself. "Stop trying to bait me, you sick little—"

"Well, that's fine, then. I suppose it doesn't matter if Euphemia is never avenged. It was my fault, though – I gave her that order. Don't you remember her, covered in Japanese blood…?" Lelouch smirked. "It's a mercy I killed her. She'd never have forgiven herself."

He glanced up at Suzaku to see the effect his words were having; the other boy had paled considerably more, his green eyes coloured with utter disbelief.

"What's the _matter_ with you?" he asked softly.

"I'm merely trying to show you," Lelouch replied calmly, "that this is the only way to end it all. Kill me, as I have killed so many others. Blood for blood."

Suzaku looked at him for a very long time – standing in the middle of the room with that ornate white draped all over him, some symbol of Britannia, the sacrifice for its sin. He looked like Lelouch, but what Lelouch _should_ be, not what he _was_. This was only the shell, all that was left of him – was what left behind to take the fall now that Lelouch had all but accomplished his goal.

But still Suzaku could not accept what he had asked of him.

"Blood for nothing," he replied levelly. He crossed the room towards the wardrobe, pulling it open; and standing before the mirror, began to roughly, aggressively pull away the layers of his knight uniform, pushing it down over his shoulders and arms. The material pooled at his waist as he began to rifle through the contents of the closet in search of something.

"What are you doing?" Lelouch asked, his tone now less haughty, instead perplexed.

"I won't be like you," Suzaku replied stiffly, finding that he wanted and hauling it out, throwing it onto the bed behind him.

The black and gold boy's uniform of Ashford Academy lay on the sheets, spread like an abandoned skin.

"I won't let _this_," Suzaku spat, indicating to the uniform he was halfway through pulling off, "become me. I won't let a role, a title, control me like a puppet."

"So what?" Lelouch mocked, his eyes narrowing. "You're going to become some silly, insignificant little student again instead?"

"Insignificant, yes. Because then I have no responsibility. I owe you _nothing_, Lelouch."

"Suzaku—"

"_Ah_." Gaining ground, this time it was Suzaku's turn to smirk. "You can't _stand_ the thought of it, can you? Being nothing. Being a _silly, insignificant little student_. You say you changed the world because you couldn't bear for it to be as it was any longer, but it was the power too, wasn't it? The _control_. You're in love with being the orchestrator, Lelouch."

"Even if, as you imply, it was only my own arrogance that drove me to this," Lelouch replied calmly, "that doesn't change the fact that the world in which you wore that school uniform has been reborn – and in that rebirth, you have been given a duty to fulfil. You want no responsibility? You want to owe me nothing? Well, I'm afraid that is no longer for _you_ to decide, Suzaku Kururugi."

Suzaku didn't answer him, still undressing – doing it right in front of him, as though he wasn't even there. Lelouch _really_ hated to be ignored, he'd always known that, and so right now, in that aftermath of such a lordly speech, he thought that to pretend he hadn't even heard him was the best option.

"Don't be such an idiot!" Lelouch finally spat, predictably riled by Suzaku's silence; and he turned on his heel to stalk out of the room.

"At least I don't _look_ like one," Suzaku replied tartly, not looking at him.

Lelouch paused at the door, the "idiotic" robes in question still moving after he'd stopped; but eventually deigned not to answer and left, slamming the door behind him.

Suzaku put on the old Ashford uniform and stood before the mirror. He didn't like to say it, but Lelouch was right – the world in which he'd been a student at that school, enjoyed as normal as life as he could ever have hoped for, was dead.

But still… As he looked at his reflection, he felt better for seeing himself in these clothes:

Somehow, dressed in the uniform of a school usually exclusively for those of Britannian blood, even though he himself was Japanese, he felt like less of a sham.

* * *

Silent hours passed. Suzaku, still in his old school uniform, lay on the bed, spread-eagled – as though the puppet that he had declared he would not be, cast aside in Lelouch's anger and frustration with him.

The ceiling, as he knew, had no cracks and even white paintwork; and there were twenty-one plaster flowers, thirty-four leaves, fourteen spiralling stems, sixteen rosettes and fifty-two thorns decorating the ornate ceiling rose.

He raised his hands above him and looked at them. Imagined the blood on them. Not that that would be anything new. Lelouch was right. He was a soldier. A knight. A murderer.

He brought them closer, then let his left drop back to the bed; looked instead only at his right, the hand which would grasp the hilt of the sword and pull it from its scabbard. He looked at the lifeline that weaved across it, winding and deep, like a river.

A river, filled with life. He would live. Lelouch had already seen to that.

Just as he had all but seen to it that _he_ would die.

Suzaku pressed his hand to his eyes and rolled over onto his side. Of course. Lelouch was a prince. He might hate his heritage, even _deny_ it inwardly as he sat on that throne, but it still followed that he expected people to do what he wanted, when he wanted, even without Geass. He expected Suzaku to jump to attention when he addressed him, to bow and comply when he gave him an order. He'd always been that way, really—

It was just that now he was holding the world as his hostage.

(It wasn't that Suzaku didn't agree with his plan. It wasn't as though he thought it was idiotic, that it was doomed to failure. On the contrary, he knew it work, and he admired Lelouch for having played every piece on the board so well.

And yes, he admired the way he had set himself as the sun for the world's hatred to revolve around. It was not a foolish move – it was a very strong, and very brave, one. The king had set himself up to be taken in order to win the game.

But he resented it also – for reasons that were, he professed, selfish and cowardly:

He didn't want to be Lelouch's killer, and he didn't want Lelouch to be killed.)

His phone chirped on the bedside table; Suzaku reached blindly behind him, groping for the device and catching it up between clumsy fingers. He brought in front of his face and flipped it open.

Text message. From Lelouch.

Suzaku exhaled deeply. He didn't know if he could put up with this right now…

He opened the message anyway, pushing a few brown curls from his eyes to enable him to read it.

_Come to my room_.

That was all it said. No address, no please, no name, not even a smiley face. Just a demand. Typical of Lelouch.

Was he going to apologise? Suzaku gave a snort as he sat up, closing the phone again. Not very likely. He'd known the other boy long enough to know that he only tended to apologise when he didn't actually mean it.

When he was truly sorry, he said nothing.

—

It was a while before Lelouch opened the door. Suzaku grew highly impatient in the silence that followed his knock, leaning against the wall with his arms folded, fingers drumming restlessly at his own elbow.

"Don't leave me standing out here after you made me come all the way," he bit out as the door finally opened.

"For a solider, you sure complain about the most superficial things," Lelouch replied, leaning his lithe body up against the doorframe.

"What do you want?" Suzaku asked, ignoring him, eyes focused straight ahead at the opposite wall.

"Well, if you'd look at me…"

Suzaku gave a snort, glancing sideways at him; then blinked and turned too look at him properly, unfolding his arms and slowly lowering them to his sides.

"It still fits," Lelouch said, smirking.

"Of course it stills fits," Suzaku replied blankly. "You're as skinny as you always were."

Lelouch looked down at the Ashford uniform, identical to the one Suzaku wore; distractedly smoothing out a crease.

"Do I look less idiotic to you now, Suzaku?" he asked absently, not looking at him. "Dressed as a silly little schoolboy?"

"You look… more like yourself."

Lelouch paused, glancing up at him with a gleam behind the violet contacts.

"So to you, the real me _is_ a silly little schoolboy?" he asked haughtily.

Suzaku blinked at him; then laughed. Lelouch's indignance never failed to amuse him.

"When you have quite finished," Lelouch said stiffly, pushing away from the doorframe and drifting back into his room, "you might like to come in…?"

Suzaku stopped laughing, immediately becoming more guarded.

"Why did you call me down here, Lelouch?" he asked warily from the corridor.

"Come in and you'll see," Lelouch replied airily, his voice faint as he crossed his room. "I have a surprise for you."

Suzaku had grown to not like Lelouch's surprises very much, especially these past two years. Being Zero, having Geass, his suicide plan… They were all surprises Suzaku hadn't much cared for. So he was cautious in venturing into the room, glancing about, jade eyes scanning quickly and analytically over every item in the room—

"Are you serious?" he asked, taken aback by that he saw.

Lelouch smiled at him from where he was sitting on the bed.

"Of course I'm serious." He nodded towards the open door. "Shut that, will you?"

Still Suzaku only stood where he was, gaping at him.

"You… you made a _den_ out of your bed!" he burst out eventually, pointing at it.

Lelouch looked at it disdainfully.

"If you can call it that," he replied morosely. "You know I'm not one for manual labour."

It was true. Suzaku looked at it critically. It was a good effort, but he could see where Lelouch had had trouble with the mattress and the duvet. It didn't look very stable. He gave a sigh, shook his head and smiled; shutting the door, he came over to the makeshift den, pulled a few things this way and that, and immediately it became far more inhabitable.

"I'm glad you didn't waste your time in the army," Lelouch mused dryly.

"Shut up." But Suzaku grinned at him. "_You're_ the one wasting your time making dens out of bedsheets."

Lelouch smirked again, rose and ducked under the "doorway".

"Aren't you going to come in?" he asked lazily, by now out of Suzaku's sight. "You haven't seen the best part."

The "best part" turned out to be the lamp, cushions and little picnic Lelouch had carefully laid out on the floor of the makeshift hidey-hole.

"You've utterly lost it, Lelouch," Suzaku said appreciatively, watching the other boy carefully fold himself up on one of the cushions.

"No," Lelouch replied, gesturing towards the cushion next to him, implying for Suzaku to sit down. "I've regained it. You despise this new world, that has changed so much you barely recognise it. You can't reject it forever, but… for tonight, I thought I'd let you have the old world back – the way it was before everything changed."

"I don't know whether to thank you or slap you," Suzaku said, sitting.

"Just be my friend, Suzaku."

Suzaku looked at him, but had nothing more to say; instead looking around at the interior of the childlike den.

"We haven't done this for years," he said quietly. "But back… when you lived at my house, we used to do this all the time. You, me, sometimes Nunally and Kaguya… We used to pretend that we were camping in the jungle, and that all the shadows on the sheet were tigers and gorillas…"

Lelouch shook his head with an absent smile on his face; Suzaku watched him pick up a glass bottle and pull the cork out before picking up a delicate crystal flute—

"Is that _wine_?" Suzaku asked, surprised.

"Yes," Lelouch replied, watching the dark red liquid cascade and settle into the slender glass. "We might be acting like little kids, but we're not."

"…I didn't know you drank."

Lelouch shrugged, handed him the glass and poured another. Suzaku held the drink by the thin stem, afraid to clutch it too tightly – well, Lelouch was almost nineteen. They both were. Why was he so surprised…?

"A toast?" Lelouch asked, putting the bottle down.

"Sure."

"But to what?"

"Japan?" Suzaku suggested. "The fall of Britannia? …Zero?"

"No." Lelouch tilted his head thoughtfully. "Let's be selfish." He raised his glass. "To us."

Suzaku paused.

"Okay," he replied softly, lifting his own glass and clinking it against Lelouch's. "To us."

He waited for Lelouch to drink before raising his own glass to his lips; he'd expected Lelouch to be delicate about it but he knocked back half the glass. Lelouch, incidentally, didn't seem like someone who would be able to hold his alcohol very well, so maybe it wasn't very strong…?

Suzaku drank; tilting his head on swallowing, finding that it tasted… _sweeter_ than he had expected – in fact, almost familiar…

"It's not wine, Suzaku," Lelouch said, both his voice and expression completely deadpan. "It's just grape juice."

Suzaku blinked at him; and Lelouch, who appeared to have been holding back his laughter, now let it reign freely over him.

"You…!" Suzaku was torn between laughing himself and smacking Lelouch over the head with his still almost-full glass of "wine".

"Oh, come on," Lelouch said, composing himself again. "It was more fun to let you think it was wine. You're so gullible, Suzaku." He raised his glass to the brunette boy again. "Cheers."

"Cheers," Suzaku replied dryly, taking another, longer drink from his glass.

They sat like that in the little escape-haven they'd carved from the real world, drinking fake alcohol, eating the child-sized buffet Lelouch had so carefully arranged – reliving a time from long ago, exact to the last detail except that they were both no longer children, but instead young men who had changed the world.

It was obvious in the lack of space. They weren't little kids any more – a propped-up mattress with some bedsheets draped over it no longer seemed like their own private tent, secret base or mansion:

It seemed like a propped-up mattress with some bedsheets draped over it, and they no longer felt like daring explorers or secret agents – they felt like two teenaged boys, too big and too old for this kind of thing, sitting under a propped-up mattress with some bedsheets draped over it.

But Lelouch smiled, and Suzaku returned it, and it felt alright for them to be so idiotic.

"Hold this," the dark-haired boy said at length, handing Suzaku his glass so that he could start unbuttoning his jacket. "I have to take this off. I forgot how hot this thing can get…"

"The material is terrible," Suzaku agreed, watching him shrug out of it. "Here—"

He tried to hand the glass back too quickly, and Lelouch, still tugging the Ashford jacket off over his elbows, knocked it out of his loose grip. What was left of the red juice spattered down the front of the crisp white shirt he'd just bared.

"Ugh, Suzaku…!" Lelouch righted the glass and looked down at his shirt. "Be careful, there's hardly room to move in here…"

Suzaku wasn't listening to him. His gaze had been pulled magnetically towards the stain on his shirt and stayed there now, unmoving. Dark, wet, slowly spreading, and that crimson, so much like…

He shuddered, almost losing his grip on his own glass; he put it down, eyes still on Lelouch's shirt. He felt his breaths shortening, his chest tightening as though a band was being pulled around it, crushing him; and everything else, even Lelouch himself, faded to an oblivional background, shapeless, static white noise that conveyed to him no meaning and no importance. All he could see was that crimson stain, vibrant before him like a bloody sun.

"Suzaku?" Lelouch blinked at him, aware of his friend's green eyes growing unfocused, detached, staring straight at him, but not _at him_… "Suzaku…? Hello?"

He reached for him – and, sensing the movement, Suzaku snapped out his trance, coming back to life and jerking his body backwards out of Lelouch's reach. He shuddered again, feeling it clench icily at his spine, and tore his gaze away from Lelouch, who was blinking at him in bewilderment.

"Please… don't do this to me," Suzaku managed to gasp, and he got up and wrenched the bedsheets back to escape from the den.

"Don't do…?" Lelouch followed him, ducking out from beneath the mattress to find Suzaku clutching at the thick wooden post of the four-poster bed, as though he'd lost all will and ability to stand by himself.

"Just leave me alone!" Suzaku wailed, his back to him, fingers digging into the wood so hard that they felt numb. "Stop torturing me, Lelouch! Please, just… just stop…"

"You're being idiotic again."

"_Me_?!" Suzaku whirled on him angrily. "Look at _you_!"

Lelouch looked down at himself again, his expression blasé.

"Suzaku, this is just juice. You know that."

Suzaku couldn't speak. He could barely draw breath. His fingers curled, numb and yet on fire. Lelouch was standing there, just standing, covered in the blood that Suzaku was to draw from him tomorrow – this phantom he saw from the future, a harbinger of a terrible vision that Suzaku didn't want to see—

He stumbled forwards and seized Lelouch by the collar of his shirt; ripping frantically at the buttons to get them undone, pulling several completely from their threads. Lelouch didn't say a word, didn't make a sound, merely stood there and let him do it, and in the end simply sighed at him when he wrenched the material apart to see that there was no wound there beneath it.

He laid his slender hand on Suzaku's head, fingers sinking into the thick curls, as the former soldier slid to his knees and rested his cheek against his skin – unbroken and unwounded.

"It's… just grape juice," he said, more to himself.

"Of course," Lelouch replied quietly. "What else could it be? You forget, Suzaku – I am a prince. When I bleed, it will run blue."

Suzaku listened and breathed and remained silent.

"Suzaku…?" Lelouch tilted his head; then sank to his knees himself, his hands either side of Suzaku's face.

"Of course," Suzaku replied expressionlessly. "Of course your blood wouldn't be red like everybody else's. Blue blood, you call it? More like _bad_ blood."

Lelouch smirked, upturning his wrist to look briefly at the map of delicate blue veins weaving beneath the skin.

"I couldn't agree more," he said with a bitter smile.

Suzaku clutched at Lelouch's elbows, fingers digging into thin bone.

"Creatures like you should be confined to _Hell_!" he hissed at him.

Lelouch's smile didn't waver.

"Then, Suzaku," he replied, his voice like silk as he wound his arms around his friend. "…Come to Hell with me."

—

There wasn't room for this in here. The space was too small and they were too big.

Too big and too old; and that much was obvious now.

The pale, thin, naked creature astride him was a demon. Suzaku watched him in morbid fascination, unable to tear his eyes away from him, even though he was all but devouring him alive – taking what he wanted and then leaving him behind to burn for all eternity.

Between the walls of mattress and duvet, Lelouch had pushed Suzaku back against the pillows, pressing his shape into them. They were already stripped of the old Ashford uniforms, pared down completely to nothing but flesh.

Suzaku's rough, hardened over bone, toned and tanned a little darker than the typical Japanese complexion due to all his outdoor training.

Lelouch's smooth, pale like milk, almost translucent, with blue veins stark against it at his wrists and neck.

A soldier and a prince

(or)

a sacrifice and a demon.

Suzaku lay on his back on the silk and velvet cushions lining the floor of their hideaway, gazing up at Lelouch; watching and admiring him, his every movement, his every soft little sound. In this position, with Lelouch so far above him, Suzaku was greatly unsettled by the responsibility given to him – Lelouch had slid himself down onto him, his finger pressed to Suzaku's lips to keep him quiet, and was now the one who moved, grinding himself down against the other boy as though trying to force together two gears from two completely difference pieces of clockwork and expecting them to be compatible. Suzaku pushed upwards with his hips to meet him, but otherwise lay completely still, just looking up at him, green eyes following the slow descent of a crystalline bead of sweat down to the hollow of his throat. He liked the way Lelouch's hair grew messy and stuck to his skin, and the way his bottom lip was beginning to turn pink because of the pressure his teeth were putting on it.

He liked the way their bodies were fused together so intimately and so completely even though they weren't supposed to be.

He liked the way they were both nothing – naked, human, and engaged in a human act. It was low and base and completely different to Lelouch's lofty ideology and carefully-woven plans. There was no place here for Lelouch to scheme and twist the outcome of this to his advantage.

But maybe he didn't like that Lelouch was above him – at least, not anymore. He sat up, noting that Lelouch paused, his eyes flickering open to regard him warily. Suzaku slipped his arms around his waist, clutching him tightly and possessively.

"_Suzaku_…?" Lelouch whispered.

Suzaku didn't answer; but nuzzled his face against Lelouch's throat, then raised his head and kissed him, and as he did so, pushed his weight downwards, tipping Lelouch backwards and effectively switching their positions so that the smaller boy was sprawled underneath. Lelouch made a high-pitched little sound of protest as his back hit the cushions – which made Suzaku wonder what kind of sound he would make when…

Lelouch's nails pressed into his back, hot and stinging – Suzaku shivered, moved against him, heard his breath hitch. Lelouch's eyes were wide open, gazing up at him, coloured a fake violet. So Suzaku started right back at him, and moved again, and again and again, building the rhythm back up, until Lelouch couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

Either in retaliation or simply because he was overwhelmed, Lelouch sank his teeth into Suzaku's shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. Suzaku didn't react at all – although his mind had started to scream and wouldn't be silenced.

It wasn't the pain.

It wasn't the pain, either, that made him bury his face against Lelouch's neck and sob quietly when it was over.

* * *

Suzaku woke up by himself, curled on the cushions on the floor of the den that was still standing – naked underneath the thin silky blanket that Lelouch had lain over him.

He sat up, noting the dull ache at his shoulder – and glanced at it, seeing the dark dried blood clustered around the faint teethmarks Lelouch had left imbedded into his skin.

Red blood.

The blanket pooled at his waist, and in turn he looked down at that.

It wasn't a blanket.

It was Zero's cloak.

Suzaku clenched it in his fists, stressing it between strong fingers. It strained but didn't tear. At length he wrapped it around himself and clambered out of the den – stopping outside it after straightening.

Lelouch was across the room, his back to him, finishing pulling those white robes that Suzaku hated back on. Hearing the movement, he turned to the brunette boy, looking him over, Zero's long cloak wrapped tightly around his body to hide his nakedness.

"Good morning," Lelouch said pleasantly, going back to doing up the ornate fastenings of his robes.

"I hate those clothes," Suzaku replied bluntly, ignoring the greeting.

"Well, you can ruin them today," Lelouch replied genially, not looking at him.

"Lelouch, that's not—"

"Besides," Lelouch went on calmly, "what does it matter? Clothes just hide the fact that you are flesh and blood. They aren't much good for anything else."

Suzaku was silent for a long while – Lelouch turned away again, leaving Suzaku with only his back.

"_Your_ blood…" Suzaku finally said. "…It will run blue?"

Lelouch glanced at him over his shoulder.

"I promise," he said.

* * *

Lelouch's hand, bloody from his own wound, had trailed down the side of Zero's mask as he whispered to Suzaku.

With his last breath, spoke his last words to Suzaku Kururugi.

Now Lelouch lay next to his sister, and Zero gave a sharp snap of his sword, flicking the blood from it into a wide semi-circle.

As the crowd cheered for Zero, their saviour, just as Lelouch had meant for them to, Nunally clutched at her brother and sobbed, her wails of despair somehow louder than the collective chant of "Zero! Zero! Zero!".

The agony in her crying was real. Suzaku could hear it.

He could feel it as well.

Lelouch's blood ran down his mask, dripping onto the edges of the cape that he had carefully put over Suzaku's sleeping form only that morning to keep him from being cold.

Just as Suzaku had kept his promise, Lelouch had kept his:

To Suzaku, seeing the world now only through Zero's mask, Lelouch Vi Britannia's blood was blue.

**END**

* * *

Because… well, _really_. Aside from the excessive (Clamp-like) overkill and weird Nunally-bondage, that Final Turn looked a bit gay to me. Just saying. :)

Far be it from me to shove my theories down your throat, but the more I think about it, the more I think that Lelouch isn't actually dead. At first I kind of accepted that he was, but now I'm more inclined to believe that he actually took CC's code, making him immortal, which gives them both what they want: He doesn't die from having a huge sword skewered right through his stick-boy frame, and CC gets to die if and when she feels like it. So until then I guess they'll just doss about on their travelling hay-cart. O.o

Of course, I have absolutely no proof for that (apart from the fact that CC may or may not be addressing Lelouch personally right at the end), and I am sure there are plenty of people who would disagree with me, but… ah, never mind. The debate is half the fun, and I'm sure it was Sunrise's intention that we fangirls would all kill each other over differing opinions on what happened to him anyway.

That seems like their bag.

So until I'm stabbed from behind by another _Code Geass_ fan who thinks that I'm wrong, thanks for reading, and SuzaLulu FTW!

RR xXx


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